


Paint.

by Skeleton_Wolf



Series: Sterek Short Stories! [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Artist Stiles Stilinski, Clumsy Stiles Stilinski, Cute, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski in Love, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy, Happy Ending, M/M, POV Derek, Pre-Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Researcher Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 13:28:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20815922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeleton_Wolf/pseuds/Skeleton_Wolf
Summary: Derek chose the wrong time to enter Stiles room but, then again, maybe his timing is perfect.orDerek jumps through Stiles window scaring him half to death but it turns out it was worth it.





	Paint.

Stiles flailed, chair falling backwards as he did, creating a thump louder than the one that had originally scared him. The man by his window stood up, adjusting his clothing as he walked towards the younger boy whose eyes were blown wide, heart beating a mile a minute. Derek inhaled deeply trying to determine what it was he could smell. _ Fear. _Stiles was scared, but it wasn’t unusual of Derek to stop by, he’d been doing it a lot more recently. There was something a bit more tangy mixed in, something Derek definitely wasn't used to smelling emanating off Stiles: embarrassment.

He realised he’d halted by the corner of Stiles’ bed and that Stiles was now scrambling to set himself back on his feet. Shaking his head, he continued to pick his way through the books strewn across the floor. _ Research, _Derek noted as he finally reached the desk Stiles was now frantically trying to get back to and failing instead tripping over a book open on a page that said “Araxine” in dark bold cursive lettering, “Weakens all but true heirs of the Blood-Thorn Witches.” was written underneath. 

Derek made a mental note to ask Stiles why he was researching witches when their newest “deadly” creature was a small (in comparison to others they’d heard about) pissed off ogre. The answer would probably be something about never being too prepared, especially when it came to The Pack. Derek would be inclined to agree.

He briefly considered helping Stiles stand and stay on his own two feet before his dark eyes travelled over the desk in its entirety, now close enough to see everything positioned in an uncharacteristically organised layout. He took in the pencils, the watercolour and acrylic paints, the brushes resting in a glass of slightly murky water and finally, finally, his eyes landed on the thick sketchbook paper. 

The artistic - almost complete - painting was of a brown-haired young adult male with a smattering of moles contrasting his pale white skin - Stiles. He was wearing his statement red hoodie zipped up so you could only see a small triangle of grey peeking over the top, dark black trousers clinging tightly to his legs. He stood just above the middle of the marbled blue-purple pool of colour on the page. But that wasn’t what shocked him, it was the fact that Stiles was paired with a black, shaggy looking wolf that stood tall just in front of him, head turned to face whatever was ahead of them. The wolf had blood-red eyes that - despite being painted - seemed to glow like stars in a clear night sky, the end of its snout a lighter grey than the rest of its body and ears stood to attention.

He bit back a gasp of realisation, it was him, it was Derek. The two of them seemed to be guarding one another despite Derek being positioned in front of Stiles they both held a protective, strong stance. Derek's wolf was painted delicately, in a light he'd never seen himself in and it made him wonder if that's what he really looked like or if that's just how Stiles saw him. He couldn’t help the small flicker of hope that it wasn't Stiles over exaggerating and in fact, was the latter.

Gently, he stretched a hand out towards the piece that was so well done it could've been easily mistaken for a professionals work but before he could touch the paper a hand slapped his away.

"Go away." The first words spoken, not counting the screech Stiles had let out when Derek first entered the room, broke the thick silence and Derek's trance. They came out strong yet wary but the illusion of _ 'I don't care' _was broken by the wave of embarrassment, slight anger and undertone of confusion.

"Why?" He wasn't sure if the word was a question as to why Stiles had illustrated such an intimate work or as to why he should go. Either worked.

"Just go, please." The plea in his voice was so immensely desperate and unsure that Derek knew - could just tell - that he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. But Derek wanted to stay and talk despite never wanting to do such a thing for eight or more years. He knew he should leave, he was invading the home of a sheriff, he was invading Stiles' home. The latter seemed mildly more threatening than the former.

"No," he gently ran his fingers over the paper, just under an unruly strand of fur. It was the most beautiful painting he'd ever seen yet, despite portraying Derek with more beauty than he deserved, it did worse than pale in comparison to the real Stiles. 

"Stop," Stiles demanded, voice strong but the scent of his emotions still betrayed him.

"What?" Derek's forest-amber orbes met with Stiles dark molton whiskey pools, the world slowing momentarily.

"You know what," Stiles started regaining some of his confidence, embarrassment leaking out of him, "stop looking at it like it deserves to be hung next to the Mona Lisa or The Starry Night, it's just something I'm working on when I take breaks from reading, give my brain time to process everything and calm down a bit before continuing. But it's stupid and I don't get why you won't just stop and leave!" His voice grew steadily more confused and slowly rose until he wasn't yelling but close to.

"It's beautiful." Were the only words he could force passed his lips and into the air that was steadily growing colder causing Derek to realise that the window was still open. Pulling his hand away from the paper, he padded over to the window hearing Stiles sigh in relief as he made his way to, what he thought was, leave. He started to readjust his chair into the correct place.

Closing the window quickly and quietly he turned to see Stiles watching him with a look of exasperation. "Dude, learn to take a hint." If Stiles could’ve rolled his eyes into the back of his head, he would've. Derek couldn't smother the small chortle that fell from him not that he's sure he wants to. Especially when Stiles’ eyes widened again, this time not out of fear but in wonder. "That's, like, the first time I've ever heard you laugh." Derek, who had been weaving back through the books, stopped at the wistful tone and quiet huff that sounded like it could've been a chuckle.

Shrugging, he continued, coming to stand by the corner of the desk. Stiles shifted, "Why aren't you more freaked out, you should be freaking out and throwing me against a wall and threatening to rip my throat out with your teeth and-and…" trailing off, he turned his eyes to the taller man whose arms were crossed over his chest, eyes filled with discomfort.

"Stiles?" He relaxed his posture slightly, trying to seem less threatening, and when Stiles hummed an affirmative he went on, "shut up."

"Right, yes, okay, shutting up." After a second of Derek watching him with an amused smirk Stiles said, "but I don't get it and I hate not getting things, I thought you'd be more teeth and claws and less soft eyes and chuckles." Derek snorted despite himself and despite the fact that Stiles thought that he would hurt him for something like this. "Why?"

Rolling his eyes, Derek spoke, "something tells me I'm not getting out of this without answering your question." When Stiles nodded his head, all traces that he'd ever been embarrassed gone, replaced by curiosity, Derek sighed. "I should've left when I had the chance." He shot a mock longing glare at the window - like it was his escape car but the driver took off.

"Oh, come on Sourwolf, tell me." He cast his eyes back down to the page and squirmed uncomfortably, embarrassment gnawing, once again, at the edges of his intrigue. Derek mimicked his shift, suddenly not feeling any older than sixteen as he followed Stiles gaze. This was _ not _how he imagined telling Stiles this. 

"Why did you paint that?" He asked instead.

"I think you know why. I think you've known why for a while unless you're wolfy nose is broken. I was hoping you wouldn't see this though, not if you don't feel the same way." He didn't cast his eyes away, holding his ground as he stared at Derek despite his fidgeting and slight discomfort.

And Derek had known, he'd known since he first started coming here to help Stiles with research. Maybe even before then, if he really thought about it. He just wasn't sure if what he was smelling was true or not and he didn't want to make Stiles uncomfortable or uneasy around him since he'd only lost the lingering smell of fear while around him completely four months ago. Derek did not want that to come back.

So yes he knew, yes the feelings were reciprocated and yes Derek wanted to do something with them, but what could he do? He was bad at talking about his feelings, or anything really, on a good day and when he wasn't falling head over heels (or, as he knew Stiles would say, paws) for the person he was talking to. So how in all the supernatural hellish world that they lived in, was he supposed to go up to Stiles and say "hey, I know you have feelings for me, it's not one-sided, let's date." to a guy he's known for a little over three years, been friends with for one and a bit and been research buddies for three months (give or take). 

And then there was the fact that his _ father _ is the _ sheriff _ and owns _ wolfsbane _ and _ mountain ash _ bullets. If he fucked up, made one wrong move he'd be dead. But now he thought about it, maybe it would be worth it, Stiles was _ definitely _ worth it. But instead, he'd sat there and pretended that the _ 'I thought you might like help with research' _act was for an unselfish reason. 

"Derek." Stiles' voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"I do."

"We're not getting married here, Sourwolf." He chuckled and Derek couldn't help but notice the minute bitterness of his tone.

"I do feel--" he cleared his throat before trying to continue, "the same way." The sound of a paintbrush plopping into water had Derek pulling his eyes from where they had run away to the ceiling and back to Stiles.

"You don't mean that, Derek. Don't say it if you don't mean it." He spun in his chair until he was facing Derek, who walked over to him, crouched down to his level and took his hands in his own.

"I mean it, I like you, Stiles. I really do." This time Derek held his gaze, glad he had finally found the right words.

“So what does this make us? More than friends, boyfriends, dating, complicated or other.” He asked, a cheeky smile spreading across his face, eyebrows wiggling.

With an eye roll, Derek said, “If you’ll have me, boyfriends.” Stiles gestured his hands in a _ ‘go on’ _motion, so Derek went on knowing exactly what Stiles wanted, “Stiles Stilinski will you do me the honour of becoming my boyfriend?”

“Yes!” Stiles nodded frantically, standing up and pulling Derek with him. “As long as you’ll be mine.” Derek snorted as he wrapped his arms around Stiles midriff and stepped closer.

“Always,” he leaned forward aware that he probably had paint on his freshly washed white shirt from Stiles’ hands but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, especially not once soft, full lips met his own in a dance that lacked music, it wasn’t perfect but they had time to practise.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I really hope you enjoyed this one! If you would like to please leave a comment and/or kudos, I love to hear what you have to say (constructive criticism is welcome). Have a great rest of your day, goodbye!
> 
> P.S. if anybody wants to create the image described in this fic then please share a link with me (my Instagram is [@skeleton_w0lf](https://www.instagram.com/skeleton_w0lf/?hl=en) ) so that I can link to it here, with credit, of course. (As long as you're comfortable sharing your work) :)


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